


it was in may, and such a bright day

by Windian



Category: Oniisama E
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 06:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13048725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windian/pseuds/Windian
Summary: Her mother spoke of Fukiko often. Even before she met her sister, Rei knew her.





	it was in may, and such a bright day

Your mother keeps a locket tucked tightly against her breast. She doesn't take it off, not even to bathe. Often, when she thinks you sleeping, after you've laid your head upon her lap, her fingers carding through your hair, you hear her weeping. She trembles, her chest rising and falling unevenly, sobs half-born, stifled.

Mama, why do you weep?

One day, she shows you. Inside the locket is Mama's treasure: an old well-thumbed photograph of a baby girl with clutches of red ringlets.

Mama, is that me?

This is your sister, Rei. Fukiko.

Your mother tells you all about your sister. Your hand in hers as she walks you to nursery, she tells you: Fukiko had hardly ever cried. She tucks you in at night: Fukiko had been born with her curls. Mama, stirring a pot on the stove: Fukiko had such deep, deep green eyes, so deep you could get lost in them.

She tells you: when Fukiko was first born, Rei, I set her on the bed, and immediately she reached for your hand.

I remember, you say, and Mama tells you that's impossible. But you're sure of it. The more Mama tells her stories, the more you can see her: her ringlets, her eyes, her tiny hand.

Fukiko, your little sister.

Why doesn’t she live with us, you ask Mama.

She was stolen. By a wicked man.

Who, you ask her.

Your father.

There's an old murky memory: your mother and a man outside the shabby apartment you share, shouting. Mama had told you to stay inside, but the raised voices had drawn you to the window, peeking out behind the curtain.

Be quiet, Akihiro, she'll hear you!

The man had tried to put something-- an envelope-- into Mama's hands. Mama had told him to leave.

She'd cried for hours after, and nothing you could do could console her, not even when you curled up like a vole next to her. When she wouldn't come to bed, you laid all the blankets you could find over her, and slept on the floor beside her.

Some days, Mama doesn’t get out of bed. Pots languish unwashed on the counter. You get very good at cooking instant ramen. You sit by Mama's bedside, brushing your fingers through her hair, just like when you were small, when the world was just you and Mama.

You have a dream about Fukiko: you dream you're playing in the river, in the rushes, when your sister comes floating down into the shallows. You fish her out by her ankle, and come running to your mother. The three of you can be together now. Mama, you, and your little sister.

Mama stops getting out of bed. You stay home from school to take care of her. The lady from the government comes.

For the first time in weeks, Mama gets dressed. She puts on her lipstick with a shaking hand. You help her.

The smartest car you've ever seen pulls up outside your apartment block. The driver wears a suit, and calls your mother “ma'am.” Her mouth is pressed in a thin line, and when you squeeze her hand, you find it trembling.

Where are we going?

Mama's lips tighten, but at your prodding, she tells you: your father's house.

Every muscle in your body tenses.

Your father's house is _nothing_ like yours. You've never seen a bigger house, surrounded by gilded gates and flowers of every colour.

 _This_ is where my sister lives, you ask.

Yes, Rei.

Fukiko must be a princess, to live in such a palace.

The driver clears his throat. Perhaps the young lady would like to enjoy the gardens? _While the adults talk_ , he doesn’t say, but you hear it nonetheless.

Protectively, you squeeze your mother's hand.

She squeezes back, and lets go. It won't take long, she tells you.

You're left alone to explore.

There are fragrant roses of every colour; a fountains that spits water in a long arc; a pond bursting with water lilies.

At the bottom of the stairs, you hear a girl sobbing.

She's dressed like a princess, in lace and ruffles. Red ringlets cascade down her back. You don't have to see her face to know who she is. Your heart rises to your throat.

Who are you? This is my garden.

She thinks you a child of the staff, but you don't have the voice to correct her.

Her eyes are dark, dark green, the colour of deepest forest. When she takes hold of your hand, you can still feel the echo of it: that tiny hand grasping yours, once upon a time.

 

 


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